


Out of Sight, Out of Mind

by orphan_account



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: ((the murder happens before the fic starts)), Daisy is alive because i miss her :(, Do Not Archive, Established Relationship, Inapropriate Reactions to Murder, M/M, Post MAG 126, Sex After Committing A Murder, Yikes!, god im bad at tagging, its just Peter so it doesn't count, major character death but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 16:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17790473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Peter Lukas was dead, finally. Martin was safe now, back with the Eye, and more importantly, back with Jon.





	Out of Sight, Out of Mind

**Author's Note:**

> i literally havent read this over at ALL, enjoy, 
> 
> ALSO please lmk if i need to tag anything else!!

Peter Lukas was dead, finally.  
  
Jon knew that. He could see him, lying in his open grave with an uncountable amount of stab wounds covering his stomach, chest, and neck. Knowing that he'd caused some of those really should have made him shudder, it should have terrified him to know he was capable of that, but all he felt was a cold, hollow knowledge that _he'd deserved it_. Nobody stole from The Eye and got away unscathed. No one stole from The Archivist.  
  
Jon _knew_ he was dead, no one, avatar or otherwise, survived that much blood loss. But some tiny voice in the back of his head, the one that had read statements where stranger things had happened, made him reluctant to turn away. It was probably just shock, really, but some nagging fear told him that if he turned away, Peter may spring up and stab him while his back was turned, throw him into the grave dug for a monster, and that Daisy, Melanie, and Basira would do nothing to help him when he did.  
  
He eventually tore his eyes away and looked to the others. He didn't quite get the same high from a kill that they did. Wasn't bouncing on his toes and grinning ear to ear like Melanie, wasn't licking the blood from his fingers like Daisy. But he _was_ happy. Which was equally strange, all things considered, he hadn't felt that in a long time. At least not when it wasn't undertoned with apprehension and anxiety.  
  
He was roused by Basira returning, bringing the rustle of plastic bags with her. Daisy had insisted they'd need changes of clothes and thank God she had, blood was sticking Jon's shirt to his chest in the most uncomfortable way. He took his bag with a solemn nod to Basira, who returned it before passing the remaining bags to the Melanie and Daisy.  
  
There was a stream babbling away somewhere nearby. Daisy, who knew this forest much better than him, was already heading towards it before Jon noticed, Melanie and Basira in tow.  
  
The moment she reached the bank, Melanie dropped to her knees, ruffling her sleeves up to her elbows and dunking her bloodied hands into the water. Daisy had a much more practiced grace to her movements. She knelt carefully at the bank, rolled her sleeves to her shoulders, and dipped each arm in turn into the stream, scrubbing the slightly dried blood off with her other hand. Basira hung back, she had no blood to rinse after all, and when Jon glanced back at her, he found her scanning the other mounds of upturned dirt in the clearing with a slight sadness in her eyes. When she saw him watching, she nodded to the water, and Jon begrudgingly settled at it's edge.  
  
He stared at his reflection for a while as he leaned over the bank, there was blood on his face and the hair on his forehead was wet and matted. He hoped it was with sweat but expected it wasn't.  
  
He was jolted back to the present by Daisy kicking him in the leg, quite lightly by her standards.  
  
"Take your time, Sims, not like any of us have anywhere else to be."  
  
Melanie scoffed, and then the two were heading off further into the woods, spare clothes over their arms as they went. Jon washed and changed hurriedly, Basira keeping her back respectfully turned all the while. By the time Daisy and Melanie returned, Jon was bagging up his old clothes. Once it was tied up neatly, the three dropped their bags into the grave around Peter, knives too, much to Melanie's dismay.

 

  
  
The drive back to the Institute was silent. Daisy was driving, keeping her stony face forward, Basira stared out of the window, and Melanie alternated between starting out of the window and bouncing her leg excitedly. Jon did his fair share of leg bouncing too, however his was from nerves far more than excitement. All the while, his phone dinged from within his bag, earning him a fair few glares. It must have been around the tenth chime when Melanie finally snapped.  
  
"For fucks sake, Jon, you did all this for him, just answer his fucking messages."  
  
So he did. He kept it brief, a quick _'10 minutes away. I'll explain everything when I'm back.'_ And his phone was back in his bag. He pretended not to notice the tape recorder whirring away at the very bottom.  
  
When Daisy pulled up outside the Institute, he was the only one to get out, they probably had plans together. Jon murmured his goodbyes and thank yous, only Basira returned them with a small nod and slight wave, more of a motion of acknowledgement than a wave, really.

  
  
Jon shouldered his bag and hovered at the Institute doors until Daisy pulled away. He sighed, and pushed them open, bee-lining for the corner of the Archives Martin always tucked himself into these days. When he arrived at the door, he didn't even bother to knock, just pushed it open gently and peered in. Just as he'd expected, Martin was sitting at his desk, phone unlocked and clutched in shaky hands. When he noticed Jon, he got slowly to his feet, setting his phone down on a stack of papers. Jon took the moment to slip fully into the room and shut the door behind him.  
  
There was a beat of silence before Martin spoke: "You killed him." His expression unreadable, voice steady and unquestioning.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Jon wasn't sure how he'd been expecting Martin to react, but he certainly hadn't expected him to grin and hurry across the room to pull Jon into a tight embrace, pressing his face into the crook of Jon's neck. Jon let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, his shoulders relaxed from a tension he didn't know they'd held, he wrapped his arms tightly around Martin's shoulders.  
  
They stayed like that for a long while, just rocking gently on the spot. Martin pulled back slightly, cradling Jon's face in his hands and staring lovingly into his eyes.  
  
"You have some blood on your face still."  
  
"I do?"  
  
Martin brushed his thumb over Jon's cheekbone.  
  
"Right there," he murmured. "Suits you."  
  
 Jon huffed, Martin chuckled, and then they were kissing. Jon hoped he didn't taste like blood, especially since Martin still tasted like his favourite tea, even after all this time.  
  
Jon held Martin in a tight, possessive grip. He didn't like how many powers had tried to steal Martin from the Beholding. He was rightfully theirs after all, not the Corruption's, not the Web's, and certainly not the Lonely's. Never the Lonely's. He deepened the kiss. No other power would touch him again, Jon was going to make sure of it.  
  
He began to step Martin backwards, who went willingly, running his hands down Jon's back until he was crowded up against his desk. He broke the kiss, relishing in the small noise of disappointment Martin let out.  
  
"Safe room?"  
  
Martin nodded against his shoulder and Jon took his hands, smiling encouragingly before turning and leading him through the winding Archive corridors. Jon was glad his legs knew the way to the safe room, his head was far too preoccupied to think about directions.  
  
Jon kicked the door open as soon as they reached it, hauling Martin in and kicking it closed again. The cot was still unmade from whoever used it last, but if they'd ever cared about personal space or hygiene in the Archives, nothing would ever get done.  
  
Martin perched on the edge of the cot and Jon wasted no time in kissing him again, leaning heavily onto him until they were lying down, pressed completely flush. He ground down against Martin and felt himself flush when he groaned into Jon's mouth. Jon broke the kiss again, propping himself up on his hands.  
  
"Where-?"  
  
"Top drawer." Martin answered instantly, he was already breathless and ruffled, Jon beamed and leaned over to the drawers to the left of the cot. He pulled out a bottle of lube and snagged a condom from the box. The lube was half empty, suddenly hygiene mattered a little bit more, not enough to require anything more than a wrinkled nose, but still...  
  
He turned his focus back to Martin, who was watching him intently, a bemused smile on his face. Jon's heart skipped a beat, it was almost as though he hadn't killed someone under an hour ago. Well, they could always pretend, and knowing their past, they absolutely would.  
  
He leaned down to kiss him again, slipping a hand underneath his moth-eaten jumper. Martin made a happy little chirp as he did so, Jon couldn't help but smile against his lips. If they couldn't pretend, they could at least keep each other distracted.  
  
It took a bit of working out, and a lot of awkward shuffling and apologies, but eventually they were both mostly naked, clothes strewn haphazardly across the room. Jon worked the condom on while Martin kicked his boxers off.  
  
Jon's cock twitched when he took in the sight of Martin beneath him. Dark, freckled skin flushed, precum beginning to bead on the tip of his cock, hair tousled, and fingers wrapped so tightly in the sheets that his knuckles were turning pale. He was gorgeous, everything was absolutely worth it if it meant he got to see Martin like this again.  
  
Jon was admittedly unconfident with what to do next. To bide himself some time to collect his thoughts, he passed the bottle of lube to Martin, who took the hint easy enough. Jon sat back on his haunches and watched Martin pour a generous amount onto his hand and reached forward between his legs.  
  
Jon had been foolish to he would be able to simply think. He was awestruck as Martin pushed two fingers into himself, taking it easily and holding eye contact with Jon all the while. At the third finger, Martin's back arched and his hips bucked. Heat coiled in Jon's abdomen. Martin removed his fingers and pushed the bottle over to Jon, replacing his hands in the sheets and waiting eagerly.  
  
Jon swallowed hard, shuffled himself into position and slicked up his cock. He watched Martin's expression as he pushed into him, and was pleased to see it twist with pleasure. He let out a long, low moan, contorting into a gasp as Jon pulled back. They continued like that, building up a fast rhythm until Martin was as gasping, whimpering mess, moaning strings of pleas and curses until his hips bucked a final time and he came, slicking his stomach with Jon following soon after.  
  
He slipped the condom off immediately, dropping it into the bin before lying down beside Martin, both breathing heavily. It was a shame it had taken so much to get here, really, but what's done is done. Peter was out of sight and out of mind. Martin was safe, back with the Eye, and more importantly, back with Jon.

**Author's Note:**

> HECK its 12:40 at night for me right now and i have two exams tomorrow, anyway, hope yall enjoyed hhhh


End file.
